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…..'A sense of humour lends you poise, it gives you balance and it helps you to bend without breaking'…..

(HH Pujya Gurudev Swami Chinmayananda)

Meno-morium

Elison
Mary Clement MacLean (née Shiel); b. 24/3/1936; d. 29/8/2011

Born of
'salt-of-the-Earth' hill-farming folk, mother was a woman constantly chasing her own talents
and ever in support of the talents emerging from her children. She saw the potential of her husband and was
the strong woman behind his success.

She could
be a hard-taskmaster, but only because she knew what could be achieved and
would not allow us to think for a moment that there were shortcuts to
meaningful ends. That said, if she could
see a fruitful method that was straight and simple, she would be the first to
take it. Mother was as practical as she
was technical, capable of strong scholarship, she surrendered her own career
path for husband and family; as was the way of her generation.

Mother
was also an adventurer. Nothing she
liked better, I think, than to go on long and punishing hikes, particularly if
it involved hills and ravines. I swear,
too, that the more inclement the weather, the better she liked it! She could turn her hand to most things, but
what emerged in her 40's and stayed with her till the end, was her work with
wool. Natural, given her
background. Taking a fleece from the
sheep, she would see it through to finished garment, experimenting with natural
dies and combining other materials. It
was her real passion and found her friends and connections the world over. Neither would she leave a thing undone. She
was a restless woman who seemed to have an internal dynamo charged by some
invisible power source. She was a hard
person to keep up with! What wouldn't I
give for some of her stamina now?

Mother
never lost her thrift. During all our
growing years we pretty much lived in home-made clothes - for she was also a
fine seamstress. The need to economise
was there for so long that even when genuine comfort was available, she never
really adapted to it. If there was
another in need, however, I never once saw mother hold back. Even if it meant we only had beans on toast,
she'd make sure the neighbour had the eggs.
With such depth of compassion, she was hard to match. A deep thinker and natural counsellor, she
was often the one to whom everyone in the surrounds would come to share their
woes. One of her most effective tools
was her silence.

Much of
this she got from her father, the shepherd sage. Much of it she passed on to her four
children.

Diagnosed
with breast cancer in 1999, mother came through that with flying colours. There were several wonderful years for
her. In 2009 another, separate (never
fully defined but most likely uterine) cancer came to eat her away. It was aggressive.

Defying
all odds, as was her wont, mother survived more than 18 months longer than
expected. At the beginning of 2011, when
I rang from OZ to say I had applied for the Vedanta course I quipped with her -
"you're hanging around to make sure I finally get to India, aren't
you?" Her response?

"Too
right!"

It was
the Lord and Gurudev's blessing that things ran so smoothly for me that year, I
was able to depart OZ early and spend 7 weeks in Edinburgh prior to coming
here. On seeing mother, I knew it would
be our last time together. It was clear
she did also. It was quality time in
which I had the honour, along with my siblings and father, to help in her
nursing and cares.

Within
four days of my arrival in Mumbai, word came of mother's passing. The battery finally ran out.

We can
never, ever repay our parents. We can live life to the very
best of our ability and seek to emulate their example, thus honouring their
love and investment in us.

I have
done mother no justice here. It is a
mere verbal snapshot of an incredible human being. In keeping with that, indulge me whilst I
share some photographic snapshots also. May I at this point also send up a prayer to all
those who work in cancer care from the specialists and doctors, through the
wonderful nurses, all the way down to volunteers and even cleaners - in such
environments they too require something just a bit more special than the
average.

Oh my, dat was beautiful words you shared of your mother. She sounds likes just da kinda lady I would has loved to has met...I thinks we would has bonded nicely. Ain't nuttin' betters than a hardworkin' mother...from her hands to her heart.I knows her is very proud of you.

Now I see where you get your indefatigability, how you had the intestinal fortitude to overcome vertigo in the wilds of Oz, and to get yourself into a place of solitude and beauty in the midst of Mumbai.I love the photo of your mother sitting under the tree overlooking the water and the hills. She's a wonder.K

I learned a lot form my parents. My caregiving was difficult and I ended up on antidepressants.I have turned what I learned around and provide hopsice and respite care.

Ironically, I have new clients today. Their children are my age (50s) and she has a brain tumour, as my late father did. He is the caregiver, the husband. I know I will learn much from them.Amazing how we take certain turns.

Such a beautiful and moving post, Yam, full of love for, and deep appreciation of, your extraordinary mother. I had my first breast cancer the same year as she did, so i'm glad she had 10 more good years before being attacked again by this dreadful disease.

My mother died relatively young and on the 30th anniversary of her death I wrote a tribute to her which you might like to read:

Hari OMOh that, too is a delightful post Perpetua! Thank you for the link. I had at first envisaged something more in the style of what you had given. At time of writing however, (as can happen when truly under Muse), it pretty much wrote itself.

Of course, that could just have been Mother saying keep it short and pithy my girl!!! xx